


Look What's Become of Me

by aunt_zelda



Category: Les Misérables (Dallas 2014)
Genre: Apologies, Books, Chromatic Yuletide, F/F, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Misses Clause Challenge, Multi, Muslim Character, Polyamory, Reading, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fix-It fic. After the barricade, Eponine waits at the hospital for Marius to wake up. There, she reunites with Cosette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look What's Become of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madame_le_maire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_le_maire/gifts).



> So happy to have written a fic for this fantastic show! 
> 
> Happy Yuletide, stranger! Hope you like what I've written for you.

Eponine flickers in and out of consciousness as the police siege the barricade. Smoke bombs are thrown, shots are fired, and she can’t move, is dimly aware of pain radiating on her side, the red bandanas of the boys tied tightly over where she was shot. Or were they red before? She can’t remember. The cloth is red now.

The police are yelling demands for surrender. 

The boys are refusing.

She sees Marius fall. 

~*~

She comes to in a hospital, a doctor in a surgical mask leaning over her. 

“12 more CCs, nurse, she’s still conscious,” the doctor says. “Just relax miss, you’ve only been grazed. We’ll have you patched up in no time.”

“Marius …” Eponine slurs, tongue heavy and eyelids already drooping. 

“Count backwards from 20 for me, please.”

“20 … 19 … 18 … 17 …” 

~*~

Eponine is one of the luckier ones. Some of the boys were exposed to tear gas, have bullets lodged in their legs or chests. Eponine, with a graze, some blood loss, and a serious case of shock, is sitting in a waiting room barely three hours after the barricade came down. “Lucky” the nurse calls her, before handing her a glass of water and telling her to remain in the waiting room for at least three hours in case she experiences complications or faints. 

Eponine is also, as a protester (or “rioter” as some of the police are calling them) wearing the student colors, bailed out. The boys are mostly from rich upper class families, and their parents got together quickly during the barricade and were able to pay off the police as soon as the students were in custody at the hospital. Every one of them will check out of the hospital as free men, without so much as a blot on their records. 

It makes Eponine sick to see the cops swaggering around, pay-offs in their hands or being wired to their bank accounts. But she’d rather that than the alternative, the boys dead in the street, and her with them. 

Her side aches. The painkillers are good but she’ll be sore for a while. And she’ll have a scar, an ugly blotch just below her ribs. It’s not like her skin was exactly pristine before, she’s had marks all over for years, but a new scar is nothing to celebrate. More and more it seems that she’ll have to cover up if she wants a man to fuck her, or find a sicko who’ll like that she’s got signs of a rough life. 

After an hour Eponine has finished her water, refilled it at the fountain and drunk that too, and worked up the nerve to ask the lady at the desk where Marius is. 

“If you’re not family, I’m not –”

“He thinks I’m dead. We were at the barricade together.” Eponine’s hands itch for a knife. Her latest is probably still at the barricade, buried under rubble. She’ll have to find a new one, and soon. Eponine harbors no illusions about her chances out in the world without a knife, and even then she’ll be on her own, no gang, no family, no safe hideout. 

Maybe she can nick a scalpel on her way out of the hospital. Those things are sharper than any blade she’ll be able to find out on the street. 

The lady at the desk relents and sends Eponine to where Marius is. Eponine can’t go in, he’s still being operated on, but she can wait outside the room, clutching her water cup, twitching every time a door creaks or footsteps approach. 

Marius can’t die. He just … he can’t. He’s too young and full of life and beautiful and there’s no way God would take him now. No way God would take Marius and leave Eponine behind. Why spare trash like her and snuff out a bright flame like Marius?

Eponine cries, rubs her face on her jacket, and waits. At least they didn’t toss her jacket. Her pants and shirt, those were chucked out according to the nurse, stained with blood and besides they’d had to be cut off of Eponine’s unconscious body. The jacket though, her second skin, the big baggy thing that’s kept her safe and hidden. People have mistaken her for a boy when she’s hidden in her coat all the time, and she prefers it that way. It’s less troublesome for her if people mistake her for a boy. 

Eponine’s dried her tears by the time Cosette arrives, with her father. They don’t even look at Eponine at first, they go to Marius’ door and peer at the covered windows.

Eponine could slink out and leave now, without attracting their attention. It’s probably for the best, no need to trouble the rich privileged with her presence. Still … 

“Hi, Cosette,” Eponine says, standing up and committing to this, whatever this turns out to be. 

Cosette turns, her father taking a slight step forward in front of her, as if attempting to shield her from whatever dangers Eponine posed. 

“… Eponine?” Cosette blinked. “Is that really you?”

Eponine gives a half shrug. “Guess so.” 

Cosette’s father frowns. “You carried the boy’s message.”

Eponine shrugs her shoulder again. “Yeah.”

“Have they told you anything about his condition? Is he … is he …” Cosette’s voice is strained. 

“They said he’ll be in surgery for a while. That’s all they’d tell me.” Eponine scowls. 

Cosette makes a small sound of distress, making her way for the chair next to Eponine and sinking down onto it, knees trembling. 

Her father follows her, holds her hand, lays his other hand on her shoulder and squeezes. 

Eponine feels a stab of jealousy and looks away. Her father hasn’t comforted her like that in years, hasn’t given her so much as a hug since they had to leave the inn life behind.

“Do you know him well?” Cosette’s father asks, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

“Pretty well. Used to hang out with him and his friends when they weren’t too busy.” Eponine had liked to listen to them talk, big words and fancy ideas, and best of all was when Marius had spoken, argued, triumphed with his knowledge and wit. She’d taken one of his books once, but felt so guilty and ashamed that she’d promptly returned it to his bag. Marius had never even noticed. 

“I gather that they have all been … pardoned. Those who were at the barricade.” Cosette’s father eyes Eponine pointedly. 

“Yeah, all of us, bailed out, no records, no nothing,” Eponine shrugs. “So that’s nice.”

Cosette starts crying, weeping rather. 

Eponine sits back down. Biting her lip, she makes another rash decision. She reaches over to pat Cosette on the shoulder. 

Cosette leans against her, then clings to her, sobbing onto her shirt. 

Eponine looks at the dad for help, but he provides none. 

“I’ll go find some water. Back in a moment, Cosette.”

Then he leaves her. Alone. With a sobbing Cosette.

Cosette calms down somewhat after a few minutes. “I’m sorry,” she whimpers, leaning back and rubbing her face on her sleeves. 

“It’s ok. I … I cried a lot too. Before you got here.” 

They settle into an uncomfortable silence.

“What … what happened, there, tonight?” Cosette asks at last.

Eponine sighs. “Marius and his friends built a barricade. Made some demands. The cops came, broke it up. Shot some people. Nobody died, thank god. Coulda been a massacre.” 

“Did you get …”

“Shot? Yeah.” Eponine pulls at her shirt and shows the bandages. “Grazed.”

“Oh …” Cosette looks pale and faint. 

“It’s ok. They gave me the good drugs.” Eponine forces a grin. 

Cosette plays with the hem of her jacket, looking up at Marius’ door and down again. 

After a while, Eponine decides to break the silence. “I’m … I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Cosette blinks.

“When … when we were kids, together …” Eponine gulps, steadying herself. This apology has been many years coming, and she never thought she’d actually have to say it. She’d thought Cosette was in America somewhere living like a princess. 

“That was so long ago …” 

“This is important. When … when my mom used to send you out to the well at night. And you’d cry, because you were scared of the woods in the dark. And I’d laugh at you, because I was glad she wasn’t making me do it anymore.” Eponine’s not proud of it, but she was a child, imitating her mother because it made people laugh and following her mother’s lead in tormenting Cosette. She’d never questioned it until years later, when it was too late and Cosette was long gone, probably hating her still, remembering her as a cruel little child, a miniature of her cruel mother. “I’m sorry. I … I was a little brat. I shouldn’t have … I should have helped you, tried to stop her. I didn’t.”

“We were children.” Cosette says. “What could you have done?”

“Something, I dunno …” Eponine hunches her shoulders. “It wasn’t ok, what she did, what I did. To you. And I’m … sorry, for that.”

Cosette is quiet for a long time. “Thank you. I … I accept your apology.”

The silence that follows is more comfortable than the one before. 

Eponine tries not to resent Cosette, but it’s difficult. Cosette has everything: a loving father, nice clothes, a safe home, Marius. Eponine had little before, and now she has nothing. 

As a kid, late at night, her father’s slap still stinging on her face, Eponine had dreamed of that rich man coming back for her, and taking her away with him and Cosette to one of those silly castles Cosette had always been dreaming about. Maybe he’d made a mistake, and he’d come for both of them, and just taken Cosette that night. Maybe (and Eponine had hated herself for thinking it) maybe he was her real father. 

Cosette’s father returns, with a water bottle, and sits beside his daughter. 

“Valjean,” he says, reaching over and extending his hand to Eponine. 

Eponine shakes it carefully, feeling his watch under her fingers and resisting the habit of sliding it off as she pulls away. “Eponine.” 

“There is something I must do tonight. Will you two be alright here for a few hours?” Valjean asks.

Eponine blinks at being included in his concerns. 

“Of course, dad,” Cosette hugs him before he goes. 

“That must be nice,” Eponine can’t stop herself from saying.

“What?” Cosette asks.

“A dad who loves you.” Eponine tries not to sound to bitter, but it’s impossible to keep it from her tone.

“Your father seemed affectionate when we were children.” Cosette’s brow furrows.

“That was at the inn. We had to leave there soon after you left. Maybe it’s because I was growing up, maybe it’s because they didn’t have you to be nasty with anymore, but my parents …” Eponine doesn’t know how to describe it. “I wasn’t their precious little girl anymore.”

Cosette still looks confused.

“You remember how my dad looked, right?” Eponine asks.

“Of course. Hard to forget.”

“Remember how pale he was?”

“What does that … oh. _Oh_.” Cosette blushes. “I’m, I’m sorry, I …”

“It’s ok.” Eponine got darker as she grew up, and it was more and more obvious to anyone who looked that she had her mother’s eyes, but someone else’s skin. Her dad had started to slap when something went wrong, stopped his hugs altogether. 

“It’s not. It’s not ok. I don’t look a thing like my father; doesn’t matter to him.” Cosette’s mouth set in a firm line. 

Eponine doesn’t have the strength to argue or debate about such things. 

“And you still stay with him, when he treats you like that?” 

“Not anymore, no,” Eponine sighs. “He kicked me out last night. Told me to never come back. Said I wasn’t … his.” 

“What?” Cosette’s eyes are wide with shock. 

“Well, I screamed last night, woke you and your dad up when my dad and his gang were trying to break in.”

“That was you?” Cosette puts her hands to her mouth. “Oh, Eponine …”

“Didn’t want them to hurt you two. Well, I guess that was the last straw, because he told me I couldn’t ever come back.” Eponine feels some of the pressure decreasing, the more she talks about what happened. It has less power over her, the more real it is. “So now I’m kind of … homeless, I guess.”

“That’s … that’s horrible.” Cosette says at last.

“Been a long time coming.” Eponine shifts in her chair. “So, those painkillers? They’re making me sleepy. I’m sorry if I nod off, you’re not boring me or anything, I just …”

“Of course. I’m sorry, I’ve been keeping you up.”

“Not really. We … we needed to talk.”

Cosette leans back, head against the wall. “He’s going to be fine. He’s going to come out of surgery soon and wake up and he’ll be fine.”

Eponine nods. Marius has to survive. Her eyelids feel so heavy. She closes them, just for a moment. 

~*~

“Cosette?” 

Eponine wakes first. She and Cosette are slumped against each other in the hospital chairs, Eponine’s jacket draped over them.

Valjean is standing nearby. His hair looks wet and his clothes are different from before. 

“Dad?” Cosette blinks, waking up and stretching her arms. 

Eponine hurriedly pulls her coat back on and hunches over, avoiding eye contact with Valjean. 

“It’s time to go home. The nurses tell me that the boy is stable and certain to recover. He just won’t be waking up for at least two days.”

Cosette makes a sound of relief and joy, rushes to her father and embraces him. 

Eponine squirms in her chair. So, Marius will live. That’s good. Maybe there is a God after all. 

“Eponine, come on,” Cosette says, buttoning up her sweater. 

Eponine stares at her. “What?”

“You’re coming home with us, of course,” Cosette frowns. “I thought … you said you don’t have anywhere to go now?”

“I don’t.” Eponine had been planning to hide in the library until nightfall, and from there make it up as she went along. She’s had a few lucky nights in the past where she managed to avoid the librarians completely, and spent the whole night in a safe heated building without anyone else around. Those have been some of the best nights of her life. 

“Well then, you’re coming with us. We have a couch.”

“Cosette,” Valjean looks concerned. “Isn’t she –”

“Her father kicked her out. Dad, please,” Cosette fixes Valjean with an intense look. “It’s our fault that she doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

That’s not entirely true, but it’s not entirely false either. Eponine waits, not daring to hope, not daring to even breathe …

“Very well. But if this is some scheme of her father’s, we’ll have to leave this city.”

“Dad!”

“You have to understand the risks, Cosette. I’m saying ‘yes,’ but you must understand the risks we take simply by venturing out in public.” Valjean puts a hand on Cosette’s shoulder. 

Cosette nods, an embarrassed blush rising to her cheeks. 

“You are welcome in our home, Eponine,” Valjean says.

Eponine blushes too, and follows them out of the hospital. 

~*~ 

The house is nice, not large, but well furnished, comfortable, and warm. Eponine stands by while Cosette fusses over making the couch up like a bed, sheets and everything. She’d have been fine with just a blanket but Cosette had insisted. Perhaps it took her mind off Marius. 

“Let me know if you need anything, I’m just down the hall, second door on the left.” Cosette says, having finished with the couch. “Um … goodnight?”

“Night,” Eponine says faintly. 

Cosette leaves down the hallway. 

Eponine takes off her shoes and jacket, curls up under the sheets and blankets on the couch. It’s sinfully soft. She can’t remember the last time she slept alone, usually back at the hideout they’d sleep in a tangle, family and gang alike, on a collection of stained mattresses in the attic. Sometimes one of her father’s men had brought a girl up there and fucked her, while everyone else was trying to sleep. Eponine had just counted herself lucky that she’d never had to listen to her parents having sex. 

Her parents. She’ll never see them again, that’s for certain. Unless she somehow gets back into her father’s good graces. Eponine is pretty sure not even the Crown Jewels will manage to do that. 

Or maybe …

Eponine looks around the living room. There, on the table, are two silver candlesticks. They look old, valuable. Silver isn’t as good as gold but it is easier to fence. And those candlesticks are portable. She could probably stuff them into her jacket easily and be on her way. 

But then Cosette would hate her all over again. Those suspicions of Valjean would be confirmed. And even if she did get back with her family, her father would always see her as someone else’s kid, a burden, a reminder of her mom having it on with some other man.

That’s not the life Eponine wants for herself. She’d rather live on the streets than be back with them. 

Eponine turns off the light, and dreams of stealing the candlesticks and Cosette crying. 

~*~

The next day is incredibly awkward. Valjean and Cosette are clearly unused to having another person in their home, interrupting their routines. Eponine tries to stay out of their way and make as little noise as possible. 

Valjean prays five times a day, and Cosette joins him. Eponine, raised on a clumsy and fragmented version of some branch of Christianity or another when her mother was feeling especially spiritual, squirms with shame at not knowing how to participate. They seem so peaceful when they pray, and Eponine has never felt more of an outsider in her life. 

Breakfast is delicious, and cooked by Valjean, which surprises Eponine. He asks her about the barricade, what sort of boy Marius is, and if she has any plans for her life. Eponine answers in stumbling sentences, eating everything he puts in front of her and hiding some scones in her pockets in case. 

Her answers seem satisfactory to Valjean, who leaves again for a few hours in the middle of the day.

Cosette takes a book from the many shelves in the living room and settles into an armchair. 

Eponine looks around. She’d imagined college girls had homes like this, books everywhere. The few books Eponine has ever gotten her hands on were either stolen or in the library. Her life was too mobile and chaotic to weigh herself down with heavy books. 

There’s just so _many_. She doesn’t know where to start. How many can she read in a day? 

“Do you want a recommendation?” Cosette asks, looking up from her volume. 

“Uh, I guess so?” Eponine blushes. 

“Well, what do you like to read?”

“… anything?” Eponine winces. She must sound so stupid. 

“Really?” Cosette beams. “That’s awesome! I prefer fantasy mostly, but anything …”

She pulls out several books and offers them, but none of them grab Eponine enough for Cosette to be satisfied. 

“Well, what are you reading?” Eponine asks at last. 

“A Song of Ice and Fire. It takes my mind off of … everything, really. It’s so complex. I can just get lost in it.”

That sounds nice, getting lost in a book and forgetting your troubles. It’s happened a few times to Eponine, but she so rarely gets to read at all. “When you’re done, can I try that?”

“Oh, I’m re-reading the third book, there’s five out so far!” Cosette smiles and starts scanning one of the bookshelves, eventually pulling down a thick volume titled _A Game of Thrones_. “Here’s the first one. Let me know if it doesn’t work out, I can help you find something else.”

Eponine settles down to read. 

And read.

And read. 

It’s a bit stuffier than the books she’s gravitated to in the past, and some of the words she just doesn’t understand at all. But most of it makes sense. Some of it reminds her of a Shakespeare play she snuck in to watch a few years back. The hours go by and she keeps reading. Cosette gets up to pray, and then makes tea, bringing a mug for Eponine. The chapters fly past, the schemes and plots becoming more and more complex. 

Eponine likes Jon Snow instantly, an outsider everywhere he goes, constantly reminded of his status by those around him. She also likes Tyrion Lannister, and starts to root for him to win out over the others. Ned Stark, Eponine can’t help but picture him as Valjean. She smiles at Arya’s antics, but feels a strange kinship with Sansa too. 

“What?!” Eponine yelps out as outside, street lights are flickering to life. “He dies?!”

“Yeah. Sorry!” Cosette winces. “That happens a lot.”

“Better not happen to my favorites.” Eponine growls. 

“I can’t tell you! You’ll have to keep going!” Cosette grins. “Oh, sunset, right …” she starts to lay out the special rug she uses for prayer that Eponine knows probably has a proper name, but hasn’t asked about yet.

“Um, can I … could you show me?” Eponine asks.

“What? How to pray?” Cosette asks. 

“Yeah.” Eponine squirms. “I just … I’m worried about Marius, and … every little bit helps, right?” 

Cosette smiles. “Sure. Ok, come on, I’ll show you how.”

Eponine’s not sure if it’ll help or not, but it certainly can’t hurt. She does feel more relaxed afterwards.

Valjean arrives home not long afterwards, makes dinner, asks how their day went. He doesn’t talk about what he was doing out in the city, and Cosette doesn’t ask. 

“I called the hospital, they think Marius will wake tomorrow. We can visit him, if you want to.” Valjean says. 

Cosette and Eponine glance at each other and instantly agree. 

Eponine falls asleep with the second book in her lap. 

~*~

On the third day, when Marius opens his eyes, Eponine is the first person he sees.

Marius reaches for her, grasping at her hand. “Did we both die?” he asks, voice faint and confused. 

“No,” Eponine shakes her head, tears springing to her eyes. “We lived. All of us. All your friends –”

“Eponine …” Marius squeezes her hand so tightly. Marius is crying too. “I thought … you died … I … I held you …” he pulls her down, embraces her. Eponine flails, balancing, trying not to crush Marius or lean over his injuries. 

Eventually, Marius lets her go, though he keeps a hold on her hand. 

“Marius?” Cosette whispers. 

Marius turns, sees her, and smiles. “I must be in heaven,” he says, reaching for her with his free hand. “Mademoiselle, surely you are an angel.” 

Eponine smiles at the cheesy line, but Cosette seems flattered, blushing. 

They stay there until Marius passes out from the painkillers again. The nurse informs them that they can return tomorrow. Marius will be in the hospital for at least five more days, monitoring his vital signs and making sure there have been no infections. 

Eponine packs a bag that night. Marius is awake, alive, he and Cosette will marry and have beautiful little babies together and build a garage-house for Valjean and forget all about the awkward street kid they once knew. 

But they haven’t asked her to leave yet. Eponine might be able to linger for a few more weeks at least, maybe a month or two, before they ask her to leave. 

So Eponine unpacks, and goes to sleep, and tries not to think about how many nights she’ll have left here. 

~*~

On the third morning, there’s a college application packet on the kitchen table. A community college, with a long list of classes, the registration deadline circled in red marker. 

Eponine looks at Valjean, who is making eggs. “I can’t afford –”

“I can.” Valjean says simply.

“I don’t –”

“You mean a great deal to my daughter. To the boy as well. I will see to it that there is always a place for you here.”

Tears spring to Eponine’s eyes. She flees to the bathroom until she manages to stop them. 

Cosette corners her before they leave for the hospital that morning. “Don’t you dare run off,” she says. “Don’t think that because Marius and I … that we won’t … I want him but I also want …” Cosette turns red, stuttering, and finally swears, and leans forward. 

The kiss is the last thing Eponine had been expecting. Cosette, for all her flustered nerdy clumsiness, is actually quite good at kissing. She slips one arm around Eponine’s waist, brings a hand up to cup Eponine’s face, fingers brushing against her ear. Eponine tangles her hands in Cosette’s hair, smirking at the thought of messing up those perfect locks. 

She had been thinking of leaving before. That first night, taking the candlesticks. The afternoon when Marius woke up. This morning, when Valjean had given her that college application. 

Now, with Cosette entwined with her, kissing her, wanting her to stay, Eponine can’t even imagine leaving. 

A cough behind them startles them apart. Eponine feels her face flushing, and has to look away, because she still has trouble meeting Valjean’s eyes and he just saw her kissing his daughter. 

Cosette refuses to let go of Eponine’s hand. 

“Shall we go to visit Marius?” Valjean asks, clearly a little embarrassed himself. 

“Yes, dad,” Cosette opens the door. 

All the way there and back, Cosette and Eponine hold hands.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Look What's Become of Me [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8999596) by [RsCreighton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton), [SomethingIncorporeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingIncorporeal/pseuds/SomethingIncorporeal)




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